


Venery

by BWaves



Series: Infirmity [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aspergers, First Time, Humanstuck, M/M, Mental Health Issues, butt-frickin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BWaves/pseuds/BWaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Equius and Gamzee have butt secks for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Venery

**Author's Note:**

> squeekz4all on tumblr asked for Aspergers!Gamzee and Equius' first time so I did just that.
> 
> First time writing smut, be gentle.

“You're not relaxing.”

“Believe it or not it's not as easy as you think.”

“Why not? You all up and trust me, right?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“We don't have to do anything you're not totally comfortable with, bro.” He smiles down at you, leaning back and sitting on his calves, his thumbs rubbing careful circles into your knees. “Don't want you to up and regret it or nothing. I want you to feel motherfucking good.”

You open your mouth to say something but you're not really sure what to say. It's been a good three months since you decided “[you] may be ready to take [your] relationship one step further,” but ever since you've been backing out and he's been surprisingly understanding about it.

“You just tell me if you want me to stop or something, how does that sound?”

“I think. I think that would work exceptionally well.” You say and he nods a bit, letting go of your legs and moving from his spot between them to sit on your lap, straddling your hips and shifting against you in a way that may or may not be completely intentional, but regardless, rubs against you and sends a small gasp out of your mouth.

He just chuckles a little bit at you, grinding again and bringing forth another sharp intake of breath.

“That feel good?” He asks with a grin and you nod a little bit, placing your hands on his hips and pressing your hips up into his, and he reciprocates, turning the original change of positions into a long bout of dry humping with shared gasps and moans when you or he press especially hard.

He leans down and kisses you, nothing more than a peck before moving down, going from your lips to your chin and down further, nipping at your collar bones, grabbing at the hem of your shirt. You hear him mumble something into your neck but you don't catch it.

He continues talking, pulling away to ask permission to take your shirt off and the returning to the senseless mumbling as he slips his fingers under the fabric. You're sure there's some point to whatever he's saying, but he's gotten better about talking to you for hours on end when you're not listening. You don't mean to not listen, but honestly sometimes you have no interest in the topic (particularly anything to do with his cockamamie religion, you listened in the beginning, but over time it became a tedious subject).

He finally stops running his mouth when he pulls your t-shirt off, tossing it aimlessly to the side, and occupies his lips and tongue with leaving bruises all over your chest. It's good for a few moments until you feel this sharp sting and you flinch, pushing him a little.

He pulls away, looking at the spot he was just biting at and winces a tiny bit, rubbing it with his fingers. “Sorry, bro. Broke the skin there.” He chuckles a little bit, though you don't find it particularly humorous. He apologizes one more time, asking if you want to stop and you tel him no, you don't and he smiles, going back to marking you. Softer this time, and you don't have any more painful reactions from that.

You reach for his shirt, and he sits up enough for you to pull it off of him, dropping it off the side of the bed. You let your hands explore his torso as he busies himself with the fastenings of your jeans, fumbling with the button and clumsily letting it slip form his fingers a number of times, hissing a small curse to accompany each slip up.

“Would you like me to-”

“No, man I can get it just gimme a second.” You get quiet, pull back your hands and give him an opportunity to concentrate. You think it'll be good if he can get it himself, he always feels good about being able to do things like that by himself.

It takes a few more tries and a few more curses that slowly escalate in volume, but the button finally slips out of the small hole and he throws up his arms in triumph. “Told you I could motherfuckin' do it.”

“I didn't doubt you for a second.” You say and he just looks so proud of himself, continuing with the zipper, which takes significantly less time, and you realize he's not taking his time anymore as he pulls and with one quick jerk your jeans have left you and are joining your shirt somewhere among the mess.

He palms you through your boxers, smiling when he feels the less-than-soft appendage hiding in the fabric. “You sure you're all up and down with this?” He asks and you hesitate, but nod, lifting your hips and pressing against his palm.

He grins at you, and gos for the waistband of your last article of clothing, before you reach and stop him, not wanting to be the only one naked here. You reach for his pants, but he stops you, tugging the polka dotted sweat pants off and discarding them.

“So how do you want to... You know, do it, or whatever?”

You mentally slap yourself for not thinking about it sooner, you suppose it is a pretty important aspect when getting into this kind of thing. Shit, you need to think of something. “Uh.” You applaud your ability to form words, and feel him grab your cheeks, smiling wide at you.

“I got it, bro.” He says, once more placing himself on top of you and grinding down against you, “Gonna make you feel so motherfucking good, alright.” He leans down and gives you another smooch before reaching into your boxers and wrapping a hand around you.

Embarrassing as it is, the contact startles you the tiniest bit. It's not exactly a common sensation, it's only ever been, to be frank, your own hand handling that business down there.

His grip is just a hint too tight, which you tell him in not so many words, but he somehow understands the odd and uncomfortable noises you make, loosening his fingers and slowly stroking.

He manages to get you out of your underwear off without you noticing, and has you reduced to a rather pathetic pile of moans and shudders. He lets go after some time and discards his final article of clothing and it finally hits you that, yeah, you're bout to do this. And you don't even know how it's going to happen because when he said he had it he didn't think to clue you in. But he's still straddling your hips and you think you know.

“You did get the, uh, lubricant, correct?”

“Yeah, man. Been sitting in the desk drawer waiting for ya.” He turns to the desk, and the sizable gap between the edge of the bed and the desk, and gets off of you, going to the edge and leaning on his knees, reaching for the drawer in hopes he can get it without having to get off the bed.

You sigh a bit to yourself, relaxing a bit more, closing your eyes and giving yourself a moment to clear away all the distressing thoughts that had clouded your head. As your eyes fall shut there's a loud thud, and when you look to your side Gamzee is no longer on the bed. It takes a moment, you sit up and see him on the floor in a rather awkward position and a laugh bubbles up, a small bit escaping as he manages to sit up a bit, rubbing his head.

He looks from the floor and up to you and back to the floor again before he, too, starts laughing, which you're grateful for. For a moment there you thought he was going to take offense. He shakes his head, stands, pulls open the desk drawer retrieves the lube and is back in your lap shortly.

Admittedly the little incident had helped with the nerves.

You watch him, face focused and tongue peeking out in concentration as he gathers some of the slick substance on his fingers. “I saw this in a porno once.” He says and reaches behind himself, “Lets hope it's as easy in practice as in theory.” His tongue gets trapped between his teeth again and you watch what you can see of his arm as he tenses and relaxes a bit, you can't really see much, but you watch his face as it changes between different sensations.

“Easy enough,” He says after a moment, and you smile up at him. You wish you could see, you'd like to know what all he's doing back there, but as his faces contorts in pain for a small moment you decide maybe you're not sure. It doesn't look like he's in pain for too long before he gasps, arches and nearly bites his lip off trying to keep some sort of noise in. “There it is.” He manages after a moment and his arm comes back into view, grabbing the tube from where he had left it on the bed and twisting a little bit.

You suddenly feel cold on your dick and you flinch, before his hand is working over you. “Calm down, bro. Nothing to be scared of. Just trust me.” You watch him, pick himself up on his knees, feel him position you before ever so slowly he lowers himself.

The first thing to come to mind is the heat. The body-heat concentrated in this part of him enveloping you and that is the first reason you moan. As he takes in more of you you notice the tightness. It's not too tight, but you can feel him around you on all sides and that's the second reason you moan. You watch his face, as it shifts from pain to discomfort and then to pleasure and then to what you can only think is happiness?

You can imagine that he is happy, this has basically been on the to-do list for months and while he never pushed you you could always see the hint of disappointment in his eyes.

When he's sat flush against your hips you feel, rather than hear, him release a breath you're sure he'd been holding since the moment you began to enter him. He sits for a moment and smiles at you.

“Sh-shit.” He sighs, “Gimme a minute.” You'll give him as long as he needs.

When it seems he has deemed himself ready he adjust the position of his legs, lifting himself up and causing you both to groan, before coming back down.

He sets up the pace, you hold his hips and guide him when he needs it, but ultimately it's his show and you're merely there to keep him from falling off the bed again. Of course this doesn't keep him from falling off of you.

He leans back ever so slightly and of course his balance is thrown completely off. He falls onto his back, between your legs and laughs a little bit before sitting up and apologizing a tiny bit.

You tell him there's no need for such a thing and tell him you think it's time for a new position anyways, placing yourself between his legs and he wraps them around your waist.

You start up again, this time at a slightly faster pace, and he seems to be enjoying it, if the loud noises he makes are any indicator. He reaches for your face and forces you to lean down, kissing you long and hard and asking you for more.

Of course, he doesn't specify the more and so you ask, he says “Just. More.” Like it's the answer and so you go harder, faster, thinking that that might just be more enough for him. He cries out, calling your name and you moan his, and it ends up just as noises that may have resembled names if listened to slow enough or fast enough.

He warns you of his climax and you feel a little bad, because you're not nearly that close yet. You tell him this and he tells you to go until you can't anymore.

Within a few more thrusts he yells, cumming on his stomach and taking in unbearably deep breaths.

You slow but it only results in him telling you to keep going, keep going, please, inside, please.

So you continue and he whines, and you can't tell if he's in pain or not but he doesn't tell you to stop and as you reach your peak you cry out his name one last time before filling him.

It's silent aside from his and your own harsh breathing. You feel his hand on your arm and he squeezes it, grinning up at you. He puts a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you down to kiss him one last time. He says he loves you, you tell him you love him too.

And you do. More than anything. Even when he talks about clowns or airplane engines for hours on end when you're not listening. Even though he fell off the bed and fell off of you, you loved that he was able to just laugh about it and let it be. You love him so much. You don't care what condition he has.

**Author's Note:**

> For more nonsense and if you want to ask me stuff or request something, go to hsinfirmity. tumblr. com.


End file.
